Chickensoup Horrorhouse
by JosieStyle
Summary: One-shot! Neal is sick. Peter trying to help and El is all over him like a psycho motherhen. (Sorry Neal... this had to be done again.) COMPLETE!


Neal felt pretty awful all week. So when he didn't get better and certainly didn't want to go to the doctor, Peter brought him to his house. It wasn't his idea, though. And he absolutely hated the idea in the first place. Having an ex-convict around 24/7 was a little too much for his likings, but on the other hand… Peter obsessively checked his anklet signal whenever he got the chance, even when he and Elizabeth were out on a romantic us-time at some fancy Italian restaurant. So practically, Neal _was_ already on his mind 24/7. Besides… his wife insisted to bring him back home with him. So that she could take an eye on him too.

And there Neal was, on the couch, looking sickly green and terrified of the constant fussing from a psycho mother hen; He almost hides his mouth with a blanket when El started feeding him even more chicken soup. Peter thought it was funny as hell, Neal sick and helpless while his wife was forcing him to eat. And when she was finally gone and Neal thought he was alone, in which he was not, Peter could almost hear his brain crackle as he started to plot his escape.

El was a sweetheart. But it would be great if she stopped giving him food and water all the time. Neal already felt like a balloon with the stomach bug he got.

And when Neal saw a change and started to come of the couch, Peter was there to bust him. He played a strong arm on his shoulder and pushed him back down. Neal, with his eyes still desperately locked on the backdoor, feverishly flayed his arms to get away. "Oh no, you don't!"

And when Neal's eyes finally met his he looked so miserable and green and… ready to puke his guts out on to the carpet.

"'Mmmhnn… Pe'tr…" Neal moaned right before his toppled over, away from the couch. It started with a bobbling sound and then, there wasn't enough time to get the basket.

"Oh… Caffrey. Why did you have to do that," Peter sighed very annoyed, eyeing the great amounts of contents that just had been forced down a minute ago. He hoist the slightly relieved and smiling Neal up to a sitting position and snorted at the smiling lips that was still covered with some vomit. However, Neal didn't look any better when El walked back in with a bucket of soap and floor cloth; ready to apologize whenever he had the strength for it. But this event had drained him more than he liked. And it gained a lot of sympathy from the Burkes.

"Oh, sweetie. I so sorry for upsetting your stomach even more. -Hon, could you clean the poor baby up, please? And get him upstairs. He needs to get some sleep in his guestroom." Peter nodded as he squeezed the young man's shoulders for some comfort. Neal looked still like he was going to puke. But at least that weird alien bubbling sound had stopped.

"Be right back, kid," he mumbled softly as he walked away from the couch. Meanwhile Neal absently watched how El got to her knees and started to scrub the puddle of her own homemade chicken soup. "It's still hot, isn't it?" Neal suddenly raved earnest. Like that question wasn't inappropriate at all. El looked up at the feverish young man and gave a compassionate sigh. Though, she didn't answer. When she got back to her cleaning-job, Peter had returned with a washcloth and a towel. "Please don't give me that again… tell… tell your wife not to feed that again. It isn't hygienic with a dog wobbling around," Neal blurred out as Peter got to his knees to wipe his face clean. The man was sweating persistently and his cheeks were showing a pinkish color.

He chuckled once but then shook his head, knowing that Neal had to be very sick if he started raving this kind of nonsense. After he washed his warm face he rechecked the forehead with the back of his hand. "Hon, he is getting _that _hot again. I thought we already gave him something for that?" His hands lowered to Neal's flushed cheek, feeling the heat waves coming off from it.

"We did. Maybe it's just from the nausea spell. Get him upstairs. I will come and check on him later," El ordered stern and motherly concerned about her surrogate son. In the meantime, Neal barely registered the conversation but blinked every time when he heard his name fall.

Once upstairs, Peter guided the swaying and shivering ball off misery towards the bathroom. Only slightly concerned about the poor guy could face plant himself onto the tile floor, once Neal was without the secured grip of his.

Luckily it didn't happened and after a long time of waiting Peter heard a flush and Neal came back out of the bathroom, looking even more fragile. Without any word Neal desperately sought Peter's shoulder for support and he let himself almost drag towards his guest bed.

When Neal was eased down on his soft matrass, and Peter helpfully started to untie his robe, he startled when Neal suddenly gasped out loud. "What, Neal? What is it? Gonna puke? That is it, right?" Peter asked eagerly. He didn't know if he was going to puke right now or not, because he had _that_ look on his face again. Maybe he had some extra time this time to get a bucket or something. But instead, Neal tilted up his shaky hands and smiled with a weird eerie psycho grin. "Guess what I didn't do! Forgot to wash my hands." And without any warning Neal got up from the matrass to walk back at the bathroom. Only to hoover back down, again. And Peter was just in time to catch him before he did a really good impression of the drugged Neal, back at that hospital during that Hearts Wide Open- situation.

"Whoops. You okay, Peter?" Neal asks as he tried to get on his shaky feet again, causing Peter to chuckle.

"Are _you_ okay? You just went down, fast, Caffrey. Forget the hands. Let's get you under the covers before I am going to look for another bucket." Neal nodded, suddenly very sleepy and let Peter do all the work. And as soon as he lay down, Peter saw how that green shade on his face started to fade.

"Good night, Neal."

"Yeah. Good n'ght. Sl'p tight… D'nt l't the bedbugs bite," he raved once again and then his eyelids closed and sunk into a motionless sleep. As Peter fatherly readjusted the blankets a little lower in order to lose some heat, he saw Neal's naked stomach rise and fall evenly.

…

It took Neal two more days to recover from the nasty bug and when he finally was allowed to go home to his own apartment Neal was so glad he didn't have to eat any more of that chicken soup, anymore. Sure he normally liked El's cooking, but it certainly didn't taste that great on the way back out, over and over again. _…to think of it… _Neal claps his hands over his mouth. _Oh.. His other hand clutched his stomach automatically as he sought his way to the bathroom. Yup… There we go again!_

Maybe he should take it easy today. It wasn't like he wanted to be at work like this, anyway. What damage was one more day in bed going to do anyways?

When he closed the bathroom door, his intestines spams, causing him to grunt. And he decided to sit on the porcelain throne first and puke in it later. _It was embarrassing. I know… Good thing he was at home, without Peter or El hanging around the door; asking if he was okay. Good thing he wanted to stay home as well, thinking about the others…_

"They'll thank me later," he mumbled as he thought about them as he flushed.

…

**AN: A little oneshot "out of character whump story" to empty my mind… I am guessing it was already empty when I started it LOL! Written within a few minutes. Mistakes are all mine! As always. Hope you enjoyed it. **

**X**

**Josie **


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